failed states

the fairy lights are up
some evenings we visit
the bottom of a whisky bottle

it seems like my 
field of vision 
has forever featured 
the silhouette of
two attentive ears
taut, velvet

a constant jarring 
is at work
like sandpaper 
against my heart
wonder whether 
it will come down to 
making choices between
tempered chocolate
or war-ravaged towns

it's either too little 
or too much